


The Headmistress & Her Fox

by orphan_account



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-04
Updated: 2015-09-04
Packaged: 2018-04-19 00:30:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4726013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of drabbles featuirng our favourite married couple</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Console Room (Night 1)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [themysticalsong](https://archiveofourown.org/users/themysticalsong/gifts).



  
“I’ve rubbed off on you.” River’s smirk is teasing as she descends the staircase, hands resting at her sides because stairs are rarely something she has to conquer.

The Doctor can’t help but snort before he makes an inquiry. “Is that all you’ve done?” He shrugs and continues. “I hadn’t noticed.”

Her eye roll is automatic, a habit that never ceased despite their time apart. The palm of her hand nimbly presses down on the blue button before she rests her head against the blade of her husband’s shoulder. The console room is a home within a home. It always will be.

The Doctor tenses before turning so that his wife’s head rests against his chest, instead. He’s not one for hugs, but slow dancing isn’t a hug. 

“You’re defintiely not a Dalek,” River teases, recalling an earlier conversation they had about Missy’s retort about herself not being a Dalek. 

“Defiantly so,” Her husband retorts, blue eyes twinkling happily. He twirls her around, smiling fondly as she laughs. It’s a rare occurance, one he always revels in.

“I love this song,” She whispers.

“I know,” He whispers back, tucking his wife’s head under his chin.

“I know you know.”

It’s the Doctor’s turn to roll his eyes as River mouths, “I don’t give a damn ‘bout my bad reputation.”


	2. Valentine's Day, 1946

The sound of a record being played should startle a woman, especially when it’s a record that shouldn’t exist until a different decade. Well, that’s a bit of a lie. It’d been in her flat for longer than it should have been, collecting dust and all that lovely stuff. She’s more surprised that it is playable, another lie. There’s a reason she hasn’t left the entrance hall of her flat.

The man behind her shouldn’t be here. She, herself, shouldn’t be  _here_. It’s risky. This so-called holiday couldn’t be ignored. It makes her think of her parents. They are in this decade as well. She couldn’t resist a jaunt back to the flat she has in a place across the country from their’s. She should probably sell the joint. She  _knows_  she won’t.

A smile hints at her lips, barely curving them upwards. He’s beginning to hum. She can imagine his expressions, even with her back turned towards him. She imagines it’s the years of marriage behind them.

He’s here. She’s here. He picked the perfect song…except for the kissing part. He’s not ready for that yet, too young. “Hello,” She finally purrs.

“Hello,” He softly returns.

Neither of them move. He’s still near her record player. She’s still near the entrance to her flat, facing the front door.

Perhaps, he isn’t too young. The sudden hand on her shoulder makes her shiver. He’s definitely smirking, but it isn’t one of his smug ones. It’s a shyer one that he means to be more smug. She turns with a hand placed on his. The surprise etched into his features is fully worth it.

“Headmistress Song,” She introduces, forgetting about the record playing.

He arches a brow for a second before returning the favor. “The Doctor.”

“Of?” She teases.

He shakes his head and rolls his eyes. “Why do you keep the place so dim?”

She snorts, tossing her head to the left. She ignores a fallen curl but he doesn’t. This time she’s ignoring something entirely different. “Why didn’t you turn on a lamp?”

He holds up the hand that isn’t grasping onto hers. “Couldn’t find one.”

“Liar.” The flat’s small, two rooms, a bathroom, and an entrance hall that she had to add herself, large for this era. The room he was in houses the kitchen and living area. Her bedroom and bathroom are in the other room. Perception filters are useful for hiding so many innocent things.

“Insulting your elders, why I didn’t think you were that type of woman,” The Doctor teases.

River snorts, eyeing her husband cheekily. “Honey, don’t even think about it.“

"What ever the missus wants,” He retorts, returning her cheekiness with a cheeky smirk of his own.

She steps closer and he follows her lead. “You obviously put that song on for a reason.”

He wraps an arm around her waist as his hand slips out from under hers and begins to thread her hair. “It’s still like a lion mane. Whoever said lionesses couldn’t have manes was wrong. You’ve got one.”

She fondly rolls her eyes. One of her hands is quick to wrap around the Doctor’s neck, the other grabbing the labels of a god awful orange coat. “Husband, shut up.”

“Gladly,” He replies, just before his lips meet hers.

The entrance hall of a small flat in the wrong century on a holiday she’d only remembered because of her parents, who would have thought it would have led to this sort of a reunion.

River Song’s going to be careful not to mention what day is. She doesn’t need her husband teasing her when they’re enjoying themselves after so long apart. She starts to wonder how long until he takes her to the Old Girl, but her thoughts disappear.. Her husband’s kissing her. She’s going to savor it. This grey haired fox of hers had always been her favorite.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song playing in the background is It's Been A Long, Long Time.

**Author's Note:**

> I accept prompts at copinghotspacelady.tumblr.com


End file.
